


Still I'll Be There For You

by winter_angst



Category: Captain America (Movies), Political Animals
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werecreatures, First Meetings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-21
Updated: 2020-08-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:27:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26029447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winter_angst/pseuds/winter_angst
Summary: Brock gets tracked down by two shifters. It ends far differently than expected.
Relationships: Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	Still I'll Be There For You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FantasticWinter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasticWinter/gifts).



> For the wonderful FantasticWinter for always chatting with me and helping to get me out of my slump <3 I hope you like it
> 
> Title: Anyone Who Knows What Love Is (Will Understand) by Samantha Whates 
> 
> not beta'd all mistakes are my own

Brock isn’t a dog person. He’s not a cat person either and he doesn’t understand the appeal of fish. When it comes to plants, well, thank God the murder of them wasn’t a felony. 

He’s pretty sure that what’s looking at him isn’t a dog. No, it was a demonic omen because he had lied about having already donated for the charity fund running at the supermarket. (In his defense he didn’t care much about whatever trip the local gremlin scouts were going on). He was just bringing out his trash, intent on having a few beers and watching a few episodes of Below Deck.

But in the broken light of a streetlight across the road he could make out the animals form. 

The first thing Brock noticed was it’s legs. Freakishly long, and the massive ears. It looked somewhat scruffy but with a dog-like body. Brock wanted to run but he knew with those freakishly long deer like legs, he wouldn’t stand a chance. 

“Cazzo,” Brock murmured. The trash was in his hand and the bin just two feet before him.

The creature stared at him, the ruffle of fur on his shoulders caught the light of a passing vehicle and Brock caught hints of red and wildly intelligent eyes. 

It wasn’t a stray dog or demonic beast: it was a shifter. 

“Hey,” Brock was no less comfortable with its arrival now he knew what it was. “Long way from home, ain’t ya? I ain’t looking to be recruited for a pack or something. This is free territory.”

It’s massive ears twitched a bit and it’s long nose tilted downward. Brock’s eyes followed it down and his stomach churned uneasily. Tucked between the almost dainty paw of those stilt like legs was what Brock suspected may have been a bushdog, most likely a shifter as well.

Brock Rumlow lived his life among humans because it was easier. The laws of humans were easier to follow than the pack hierarchies used back home. Brock missed Italy and his family but he hadn’t missed being around other shifters. Already those long buried instincts clawing back, debased and primal. His skin felt hot and a thin, he wanted to shift and chase these invaders out of his territory.

The smaller shifter was another abnormality and Brock honestly had no idea what it was. 

The tall shifter took a step toward him and Brock growled a bit. The big ears pulled back in what Brock could recognize as submission in wolf shifters but this creature didn’t look anything like a wolf. 

The little shifter creature made a squealing sound and Brock exhaled heavily, opening his sliding glass door to allow them inside. He wanted an explanation and then he wanted them gone. 

•• •• •• •• 

The first person who emerged from the back room with a pair of Brock’s sweats on (though they were too short, the guy’s ankles were exposed) almost took Brock’s breath away. It wasn’t just the warm green eyes and his dark hair and a sharp jawline adorned with a scar. He was looking at the strip of scarring around his throat.

“Thank you,” the shifter said, voice hoarse and more animal than human. Brock wondered how long he’d been shifted and what had happened to him during that time. 

“Wanna tell me how you found me?”

Brock didn’t engage in the habit of marking territory and scenting a Shifter wasn’t like scenting a werewolf or vampire. Even now with him freshly showered Brock could smell fur and some potent musk he couldn’t put his finger on. Brock hadn’t met him before so it couldn’t have been that he smelled him before and then decided to come here for help. 

“You were running. Not many Italian wolves in these parts.” The guy offered a small friendly smile but it was strained with stress and tired.

“Mmhm.” Brock stretched his skin every few weeks. He got antsy if it was too long and his skin would grow sore with the need to be shed off. “So, what, you’re looking for some new shifter friends?”

Maybe it wasn’t the best time for sarcasm, not when Brock thought he could see the mark of a brand on the shifter’s bicep. He got a tired smile and then a hand was extended toward him. The guy’s limbs were all long and toned much like what he shifted into. “I’m Jack.”

“...Brock,” after a moment of hesitation and weighing the risks he took his hand. 

“Jack!” A voice yelped from the other room. “Jack, I still gots my tail!”

Brock’s look of sheer confusion made Jack laugh as he held up a finger and vanished into the room his friend was in. When Jack returned a teenager who was almost drowning in Brock’s tee and had knotted sleeping pants twice around his waist was there, bouncing on his toes making little muted squeaking sounds like he had when shifted. The same scars adorned his pale throat and Brock got a bad feeling in his gut. 

“Ya guys hungry?”

“Oh! Yes please! Yes please!” The teenager cheered with a little animalistic squeak between his words. His voice was soft and pitchy rather than rough like Jack’s.

“I ain’t got much pork leftover.”

“That sounds like a new food Jack! Better than kibble!”

Brock tried to pretend he didn’t hear the word kibble but he saw Jack rubbing his back in the corner of his eye. His blood was boiling as he reheated the pork and corn and roasted baby potatoes. 

Vampires were a rotten bunch. Immortality took away humanity and respect for other living creatures. They forced werewolves into fighting rinks and kept shifters like prized pets. Brock was thankful to have never met a vampire before, certain his fate would be the same as the two saps at his table. 

The kibble comment had his blood singing. Shifters required a diet that suited both their forms. “What are you?” There were more polite ways to find out but Brock was beyond niceties. 

Jack’s eyes met his unwavering and unashamed of his previous captivity. “I’m a maned wolf.”

“You don’t like any kinda wolf I’ve met,” Brock sneered. 

“There aren’t many of us left. Maybe two thousand?” Jack shrugged his shoulders. 

“Uh-huh and what do maned wolves eat? I can get beef out.”

“I’m an omnivore but honestly, anything sounds good right now.” Jack seemed to fidget a bit and Brock turned his attention on the teenager.

“How about you, kid?”

“I’m TJ!” he volunteered immediately with a little squeak at the end. 

“Uh huh,” Brock realized quickly there was something off about him. Maybe a runt. Maybe life in captivity. Thankfully he had enough decorum not to ask. “What do you shift into?”

“Imma… uh, what’s it called ‘gain, Jack?” The youth tilted his head up to look at his companion, blue gray eyes wide and trusting.

“He’s a bushdog shifter. They got him at the same time they got me.” Jack’s voice was hollow. “He was just a pup and they… He got hurt during travel and the vet said he’d never develop normally.”

Brock made a note to research more into maned wolves and bushdogs, assuming they were sticking around. 

“So you saw me running and stalked me home?” Brock asked when the microwave dinged.

Little TJ squealed and howled excitedly but was quieted by Jack running just long fingers through his hair. “I had to make sure you were safe to approach.”

“Uh huh and I made the cut, why?”

“You’re a lone wolf. No ties, no family, no pack.”

Brock’s faze hardened a bit. “Sounds like you’re looking for someone to kill when you say it like that.”

Jack mustered a small apologetic smile. “Nothing like that I just… We can’t go back. I had to be certain that you were corrupted.”

“Corrupted into trafficking? Jesus Christ are people really doing that?”

Jack’s expression was grim and all the confirmation needed. Brock split the portions and set them in front of his uninvited guests. TJ ignored the fork and picked up the pork, sniffling it noisily. It must have been satisfactory because he was gnawing on it moments later. Jack didn’t eat, just watching TJ with the kind of doting Brock would expect a father would. 

Strange bonds formed in captivity though so maybe the two unlikely pair had become their own pack. “Can I get you some water? Something stronger?” The second question was directed toward Jack who’s shoulders sagged in relief.

“You have no idea how badly I could use a drink.”

•• •• •• ••

“I was eighteen, just starting off on my own. Had my little cabin and was marking my territory just like my pai taught me.” 

They had moved to Brock’s cramped living room. He wasn’t completely comfortable with the sudden company yet but after seeing TJ eat almost his weight in meat, Brock knew it was his duty to help out these fellow shifters however that may be. TJ was bouncing on his knees, oogling at the ten o’clock news as if the box store coming to the area was the coolest thing in the world. 

“They came at night. Vampires, stinking of death and rot and suffering. They shot me before I could shift and fight properly — had I been faster…” Jack trailed off the ghost of his regrets making his moss hued eyes darken.

Brock got the urge to touch him. To rest his hand in this foreign creature’s arm. 

“We were placed on Pierce’s estate. He wanted exotic shifters for his private collection. He treated us like dogs, collaring and kenneling us. Branding us.” Jack clenched the table tightly. “Eleven years of it and finally, finally we got our chance. I took Teej and ran.”

“Where are ya gonna go?” Brock asked.

Jack sighed out quietly with a head shake. “I don’t know. Finding food in residential areas is damn near impossible.”

Brock had to agree with that. He was lucky enough to have been born into a family with ties to get him identification. That was a must these days and Jack had no way of attaining it now. Toss in a kid with disabilities Jack needed something stable and he wouldn’t be able to achieve that on his own. “Well, I don’t gotta room but… We shifters gotta help each other out.” 

Jack looked startled. “No, I don’t want to intrude.” 

“A little late for that,” Brock tried to joke but Jack just looked apologetic. “It's okay, really. I could use the company. Maybe a few running buddies.”

Jack considered it. “If you’re really okay with it then… Then I’m in your debt.” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Brock was far from certain about his haste in inviting strangers to stay but… But he couldn’t in good conscience turn them away. Especially when there was a kid involved. 

** ** ** **

By the fourth day the knew he’d made the right choice. Jack kept the apartment spotless, folding up the cot TJ was using every morning. Plus, he cooked. And he cooked fucking well. The food was different but Brock knew that was because he had learned to cook Puruvian foods from his mother. Brock loved it regardless. TJ was a treat too. He was witty and it was nice to have someone so excited to see him when he got home. TJ always told him about everything that happened during the day. The TV shows he watched and the walk they had taken to the grocer on the corner (“but as people, Brock. It’s a secret that we can shift, you know. You can’t tell anyone Brock or else they’ll hurt you!”) and how Jack was helping him with the alphabet which, TJ told him, was very hard but he wasn’t going to give up. 

They ran together once a week under the safety of darkness at state park. It was more of a jog for Brock really and a trot for Jack as TJ kept up. Sometimes he tripped over his paws but he was never upset about it. In fact he was never upset about much. His smile and his energy were infectious. 

But the best moments were the ones where Brock and Jack were alone and Brock leaned against his side. Their relationship was never really addressed, never discussed. They just fit together like puzzle pieces. Their first kiss was sweet but uneventful, they skipped over the awkwardness of a new relationship in the comfort that usually was reserved for lovers that had spent years together. 

A few months in they moved into a two bedroom and the rest is history.


End file.
